


In Harvest Teach

by AmerValk



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2019-02-04 05:30:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12764166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmerValk/pseuds/AmerValk
Summary: As my first entry into the Dragon Age fiction world, I wanted to do a small piece to commemorate Thanksgiving in the US.Ten years after the events of Tresspasser, Cullen and the Inquisitor  continue to work for Divine Victoria while most of the other companions have moved on. Every year Cullen's family has invited the Inquisitor, Idril, to join them for the Harvest Festival. She always refuses, until now.A/N: This is is for a character who romanced Solas, but as these things go, it did not last. It will be a fun holiday piece to help bring good cheer.  I am somewhat new to this fandom so if I screw anything up, please let me know.





	1. In Seed Time Learn

Idril Lavellan observed that the seasons were muted at Skyhold, it always felt like fall, but that was because of the mountain that housed the stronghold. The roofs traced the late autumn sky, and there was the unmistakable chill of winter that loomed on the horizon. However, the changing seasons hardly made an impression on the focused former inquisitor. Instead, her attention was on a chessboard. She stared intently at the pieces, tuning out the swirl of leaves in the air and the shifting mountain winds.

“Inquisitor,” Cullen’s pleasant baritone interrupted the silence around them, “In chess, traditionally, the pieces do not move themselves.” Idril’s glare was withering but the commander withstood her ire and a playful, but smug smile lingered on his lips. “I am saying, it is your move,” he continued, enjoying as she glowered at him. Still, she looked at the state of the board. Idril and Cullen had been playing chess for the last decade, as the inquisition faded from importance. Although they still maintained one of the most disciplined and feared peacekeeping forces on all of Thedas and acted as the right arm of the Divine Victoria, their diplomatic prestige faded, much to Commander Cullen’s jubilation. “I have you in three moves, Inquisitor--” He began, taunting her delicately. Then, very deliberately, she cut him off,

“Idril, you may call me Idril. I am no longer the Inquisitor. And Cullen,” she paused with a sly grin on her features, “I have you in one.” Her former commander’s confident demeanor disappeared as the elf moved her piece several spaces forward, “Check.” Idril smirked, leaning over the board triumphantly. Cullen’s eyes darted across the board as he assessed his position. Her blue eyes regarded him knowingly as she waited for him to accept surrender.”Cullen,” she chided, “I’m waiting...” He felt a pang of frustration as her eyes held his own hostage. She was still beautiful, time had not altered her strength and she had borne the greatest betrayal the heart could know. And yet, Idril never lost her compassion.

“By the maker, you have me.” He sighed audibly as her laugh rang over the cool air and Cullen dropped his head sheepishly. “How could I not see it? Are you getting better or am I getting old?” His blond hair was still golden, for the most part, but a few grey hairs became more pronounced. Still, he was the inquisition’s lion. A fierce predator in the defense of the faith. “Another game?” He inquired. Cullen had long made himself content with the fact that she would never belong to anyone, least of all him, but her presence sustained him. He suspected that she needed him as well, though after what she had been through, he would never ask her to admit it.

“You’re still the commander of our troops, and those hairs beget wisdom, not forgetfulness. Do you recall the orders you gave me at Adamant Fortress?” Idril asked, beginning to reset the board once more. It was strange, Cullen realized. Though those were times of trial, there was something he missed about those days. He put the thoughts of what might have been behind him and answered,

“I told you to clear the ramparts of demons so that our troops could scale the walls. As I recall, you asked me to consider the troops before your own well being. As usual, Idril.” Cullen took great pleasure in using her name. It reminded him of a soft spring rain, and the green fields of the Dales. She raised a brow, wondering what brought on such silence and her corner of her lips turned into a smile,

“You enjoy saying my name,” she stated. It was not a question. “I’m glad to be called something other than Inquisitor,” Idril maligned, trying not to remember the other names she had been called as well. Her memory, regrettably, was pristine and Solas remained a part of her to this day. Whether it was the phantom pains in her arm, where the mark once burned, or that no matter where she was he could always find her. He lingered in the corners of her mind, sometimes as the Dread Wolf and other times just as Solas. His forlorn impression haunting her. 

Cullen noted she seemed far away, remembering, what he imagined to be Fen’Harel. He once called him Solas, but found the name too simple and innocuous. He reached for her hand and grasped it. He was desperate to find away to shake her out of the memories which thrust her into the past, into his influence. 

“Idril,” he called, trying not to sound desperate. “I have a request, well, more a suggestion.” Her attention was recalled from the fade, from her memories. “Mia has invited you to our harvest feast. We have invited you every year, but you remain behind. Come with me.” Cullen spoke gently, catching her attention and she tilted her head curiously to the side.

“A harvest festival?” She asked, interested in the custom. “My clan had one like it around late autumn as well. I don’t imagine they have too much in common,” Idril remarked, surprised that her small fingers were so comfortable in his battle worn hands. She found herself prey to his soft brown eyes and gentle smile. True, they had flirted before, but nothing had ever been fulfilled. The thought of such an outcome frightened her. They were friends, companions in the truest, most equal sense.

“They have more in common than you think. The whole family gathers together and shares the fruit of our labors. Even the servants receive a share of the food to take home to their families. Please come this year, they want to meet my best and only friend.” He may have been soldier, but he spoke with a remarkably tender persuasion. Idril was not certain whether it was the glow of late afternoon, or his earnest eyes, but she relented,

“Fine, I will go with you this year. If only because Mia asked and I cannot refuse your sister.” Her voice was resigned but there was a smile deep in her eyes. Cullen had not seen it’s like in many years.

“Good, you,” he paused, correcting himself, “We, if I may be so bold, have not seen a true vacation in years. You deserve it, Inquisitor.” He used her title on purpose, to remind her of the burdens she carried for so long. Idril was surprisingly delighted at the prospect of meeting his sister. 

“I want to meet this sister of yours Cullen, then she can share with me how she beats you at chess,” Idril teased, slipping her hand from the grasp of his fingers. “Besides, the dog will delight in visiting Ferelden again. He always enjoys the open fields.” They both laughed in unison as the dog barked cheerfully. As the laughter died down, a pleasant quiet settled around them. Was Idril blushing? He examined her carefully as the ghost of a pink flush painted her cheeks. Perhaps it was just the air.


	2. In  Harvest Teach

Though Ferelden was neither as grand or elaborate as Orlais or the Winter Palace, but regardless, Idril found the rolling hills and tiny hamlets charming. The South Reach was no exception. His Mabari kept pace with them as they approached the settlement. His powerful, muscular legs shined in the fields around the Rutherford Estate. Just a few years ago, traveling among the common people would have been an exhausting experience, but the influence of the Inquisition had diminished. Still, people starred, whispering as they approached the modest home.

“I sometimes miss the adoration, Cullen,” she said, her voice a reluctant sigh, “But it’s nice to travel somewhere and not be hounded by nobles.” His laughter was comforting, it seemed natural here. In fact, she had never seen her commander look quite so idyllic. Here, he was not her commander, but Cullen Rutherford, a man.

“I do not understand how you can miss the attention. I hated it. I’d rather hide behind my armor,” he admitted, “I am a general, a Ferelden. You can keep Orlais, Idril.” He saw his Mabari run through the fields along the river, “Besides, Scout is so happy here. How could I deny him?” He sounded softer here. His eyes lit up as the estate appeared in the distance. It was framed between two ancient trees and both stories were marked by glittering windows. It was a old home, but well-maintained.

“You’re sister’s home is charming, I could not imagine a more peaceful place, Cullen,” Idril commented. Her elvhen eyes spied a strong woman. That must be Mia, she realized when she saw the similar golden hair, and stubborn features. For a moment, she glanced back to him, and was amazed. He was truly smiling, even though she had the urge to speak further, she allowed them this quiet moment. Three others stood alongside Mia, two men and a pretty woman. ‘That must be the rest of his family,’ she realized. Once they were close enough, Cullen dismounted as Mia sprinted towards him and he caught her in his arms. They embraced each other for what seemed like hours, whispering to one another. The reunion warmed Idril’s frozen heart as she saw real love shared between the siblings. A younger looking version of Cullen offered his hand to the Inquisitor. ‘This must be Branson,’she reasoned, accepting the offered arm. It was always more difficult to mount and dismount after losing her arm.

“Thank you, Branson, I presume,” she said graciously. “Tell me,” she spoke conspiratorially, “Do I have anything to be worried about?” Branson smiled broadly, his face did not carry the cares that Cullen’s did. He seemed naturally joyful,

“Mia, she has plans. She has been trying to get you to come for ages. She might kidnap you, or worse, matchmake you.” His voice was lower now and Idril could not stop herself from blushing. “But other than that, she’ll love you!” Branson exclaimed. Finally, Cullen and Mia separated. She was so happy for her commander, he was positively beaming.

“At last, Mia, this is Inquisitor Idril Lavellan. I know you have been wanting to meet her for years.” He extended his hand out to Idril who bowed her head and greeted the woman with a firm handshake, before she was pulled into an impossibly tight hug.

“You may be the chosen of Andraste, but you are in trouble, herald,” she chided her. “Dodging my invitation for all those years, you’ll have to earn your place this year,” Mia teased. Her face was mature, but far from old. She was lively and vivid despite being a few years older than Cullen. “You better know how to bake,” she threatened, “I need an assistant making pies.” As if on cue, her commander came to her rescue, defending Idril,

“Mia! She’s not yours to order around. At least let us get settled in before you set her to work.” His fingers brushed against her arm. It was an accident, Idril knew, but there was weight behind his words as he pulled her away from Mia. She shook her head, attempting to rationalize, the incident, or at least forget it for now. Still, the woman looked impossibly smug. Branson’s warning echoed in her head. ‘Is Cullen in on this?’ she asked, uncertain whether she felt hopeful or concerned. They had traveled for the better part of a week and at the moment, Idril wanted nothing more than a bed to rest upon for a few hours and a chance to clean the road dust from her things.

“I will gladly help you later, Mia. I am glad to finally meet you, perhaps we might find time to play chess?” She asked brightly. “Cullen speaks so highly of your abilities,” Idril added. She observed that much around her right now was a drama, just like in the Orlais theatricals she attended. Although this was far more intimate and dear to her. It was unmistakable, Mia not only wanted to match her, but had the exact person in mind. Out of instinct, she became cautious and shielded her heart. Idril had no idea if she could ever leave Solas behind entirely, it was difficult when she saw him watching her in the fade so often. However, no one knew. It was a secret she kept even from Dorian.

“Of course, I will teach you all my tricks. You must keep him on his toes,” Mia commanded. Now Idril understood where Cullen’s leadership skills were learned. His sister could command armies if the calling suited her. The commander was exasperated as the two plotted how to better defeat him in chess, yet this felt right. The Inquisitor, Idril, being so close to his family. It was as if a void was being filled in his life, he was very nearly happy.

It was the same forest where she always found him. The veil was remarkably thin as she traversed the wetlands. It was very similar to the temple grounds in the Exalted Plains. She saw the statue of Fen’Harel watching over her, and near it was him. Solas’ expression was compassionate, but bereaved. His hand lingered on the carved wolf, the tips of his fingers touching the stone. At first, Idril turned away, she knew he would simply disappear once she got close enough. Around her were the remnants of the inquisition camp, now long gone. “My heart,” she heard, it echoed and she faced him. Solas had not spoken to her since they parted a decade before. His voice was just as deep and bewitching. Her soul nearly leaped out of her chest, why did it have to be like this? He would just leave, there was no point. Idril shut her eyes, knowing in a moment, he’d would be gone. She was testing him, Idril would not bend to him, not again. When her eyes opened, Solas was gone, only the statue remained.

She awoke, her sleep and mind disturbed. More often, she found herself troubled by what-ifs. It was this exact reason she worked as hard as she had. Idril found if she exhausted herself, she did not dream as often. Quietly, Idril rose from the bed, she had no desire to stir any of the other family members as she crept down to the kitchen for a glass of water, or perhaps something stronger to soothe her. She wrapped the blanket around her narrow shoulders a bit tighter and found the comfortable kitchen. The embers lingered in the deep set fireplace as she searched for what remained of the mulled wine. It was only luke warm now as she deposited the comforting mixture into the cup and enjoyed the quiet dark around her. There was peace in this domestic space, she didn’t even mind the cold. As the silence settled around her, she heard voices from a small room aside the kitchen. 

“You don’t understand, Mia,” she heard Cullen say. “I would be a burden.” He protested, she could practically imagine him shaking his head, nervously rubbing the back of his neck as he paced the room. She at least knew that as his steps were heavy.

“Nonsense, you could help each other. No sense in both of you being lonely,” Mia replied sternly. She spoke with a simplicity and directness that Cullen clearly inherited, “Do you love her?” Suddenly, Idril’s cheeks burned and it was not the wine. She was torn, she wanted to hear the answer, but was uncertain of the consequences. She recalled how Sera told her that nothing would be normal again, how correct she was. 

“Why is that important? Of course I love her. I have loved her, but I do not deserve her. I am the last thing she needs in her life,” Idril nearly spilled her cup of wine as it threatened to fall from her hands, but gripped it tighter.

“You are dense No woman wants to live her life alone and unloved. So you weren’t her first choice, but you could be more to her than friend and general.” Cullen sighed heavily, she heard as his weight hit the surface of a chair.

“Do you really think so?” he asked, his voice hopeful. “I never dared to imagine that she would even want me.” He sounded so sincere and earnest in reply as his sister encouraged him. Idril had no idea what to say now, what she would do? Things were safe when they were simply friends, now it threatened to change. She sat on precipice of uncertainty. Idril moved toward the door hoping that she would not be discovered. Then, as she passed in front of the crack of the door, Mia captured her eyes and raised a brow. Idril shook her head emphatically, ‘Not tonight, not now,’ she thought. She needed to think. Mia seemed to understand as she distracted her brother, 

“Do not forget to play chess with your nephew tomorrow, you promised.” Cullen’s low growl of a laugh was so pleasant that Idril nearly exposed her presence before she retreated from the kitchen. She had a feeling that she and Cullen would not escape this conversation. His sister was a determined commander who would see to her brother’s happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was only going to be two parts but I realized that it rather suited three chapters. I always found the fact that Solas sleeps stalks you incredibily unsettling and felt that it would only be fair to include that as a challenge for our inquistor and her general.


	3. In Winter Enjoy

The family shrine was filled with an unearthly quiet as Cullen knelt before a statue of Andraste. There were several aspects of the templars he left behind, but faith was not one of them. His destiny was to serve through faith and temperance. It did not matter what he wanted, Cullen reminded himself. He served the Inquisitor, the others had forgotten their duties but he did not. In truth, all those years ago, Idril had pulled him from the brink and saved him from his own addictions, he owed her a debt that he could never repay. Yet, still, he prayed, ‘By the Maker, let this be enough.’ He opened his eyes, observing the likeness of Andraste before him and bowed his head. “Somehow it must be,” he said with quiet determination.The faith that had defined him for so long granted him purchase in this world. He stood from his devotions and smiled, it was not proper to be somber during the harvest festival. Much needed to be done and for all his faith, Commander Cullen was a man of action. He found most of his family in the large kitchen which smelled of cinnamon, poultry herbs, and roasting meat. They were gathered around the large kitchen island as they prepared the meal. Even Idril was helping his sister, seasoning the apples with sugar and cinnamon.They spoke in low voices and Cullen got carried away by her smile as she conversed with Mia.

“I learned to cook by my ma,” Idril said, her eyes met Cullen’s for a moment. Her pupil’s expanded when she acknowledged him and he grinned as she flushed. For a moment, she sounded Dalish as with a rustic lilt. It was easy to forget the Inquisitor was Dalish, she spoke with the barest accent and her face was without the characteristic tattoos. Cullen found it endearing as Idril realized how she sounded. 

“Do you miss your family?” Mia asked absently. Most of her efforts were focused on making the crust and keeping it cool. Idril frowned, her clan was gone and Solas had taken anything that reminded her of them.

“Yes, we shared everything. I miss my clan a great deal.” She smiled, though her heart was heavy with remembrance. “Thank you for inviting me to share the harvest with your family,” she said sincerely. Cullen knew that this was exactly what she needed. Still he felt as if he was invading her private moment and bowed his head before he turned to find Mason, his nephew was standing in his shadow, eager as ever for his uncle’s attention.

“So Uncle,” the young man said confidently. He had physically matured and reminded Cullen of himself before he joined the Templars. He was tall and strong. He would make a great soldier one day, if the life suited him.”This is the year I really beat you, that first time doesn’t count.” He spoke brashly, “Aunt Mia taught me how.” His hands rested on his hips.

“Don’t be too confident.” The boy's expression fell as Cullen laughed at his challenge and placed a hand on his shoulder, “Pride is a weakness too.” He smirked as his nephew chased after him. He needed to run to match his Uncle’s large stride, following him into the den. The small office was ripe with the scent the scent of old books and paperwork which was both familiar and comforting. However, here Cullen did not feel like a commander. Mia was the head of the family as the eldest sister. Even if she were not, she was the unquestioned general of the Rutherford family. He was tempted to touch the desk but knew Mia would disapprove. Is this what he could have had, he wondered, if he’d never chosen to become a templar? 

“I’ve set it up for us already. I’ve been practicing,” Mason explained, disrupting Cullen’s reverie. The boy was so eager to prove himself, he noted, as he took a seat across from his nephew. He raised a single eyebrow in challenge and stated, 

“I won’t go easy on you this time.” Cullen replied, “Do you think you have what it takes to beat me?” Mason locked eyes with his uncle and smirked. In that moment, he saw himself in his nephew. Just as Cullen was about to make his first move, his nephew grinned, choosing his words exactingly,

“Aunt Mia said that you and the herald of Andraste are in love.” The piece slipped out of Cullen’s fingers in a moment of uncharacteristic clumsiness. He inhaled sharply, observing mischief in his nephew’s eyes,

“Is this how you intend to win? By embarrassing me?” Cullen recovered with surprising alacrity. “Young man, there is a certain Tevinter Magister who is far more ruthless than you.” Even though Mason had called him out, in a way only his sister could have instructed, this was Cullen’s element. He leaned forward and touched the tips of his fingers together, “Mason, I am sorry but you made this quite personal.” His voice may have sounded tame and dulcet but there was a fire in his eyes.

While dinner was being prepared, Idril avoided most conversation. Most of Cullen’s family was focused on cooking, but as soon as they sat down to eat she was was quickly overwhelmed. Their praise and adulation was exhausting and the Inquisitor could hardly find a spare moment to eat a bite of food between their endless questions. She didn’t blame them, it was not every day those of the faithful met with the herald of Andraste who saved the world and healed the breach in the veil. The truth was far less glamorous but she humored his family regardless. They did not need to know the true story behind the legend of the Inquisition. Besides, she was fairly certain that Leliana would kill her if she revealed that they were formed because a rogue elvhen immortal lost control of his magic in a failed attempt to destroy the world. Cullen was entirely sympathetic as he tried to deflect the questions from her. His efforts were gallant, but fruitless.

“Please! Allow her to eat!” He protested, in yet another attempt to give his Inquisitor a moment to enjoy her food. She appreciated the gesture, if nothing else. Idril was relieved that Cullen was at her side. It would have been torment to be sitting alone.

“What shall you do, Uncle? Send the armies of the Inquisition to defend your inquisitor?” Mason asked impetuously. Idril and Cullen seemed to notice how close they were sitting and consciously separated. She blushed delicately as her commander’s face was serious. Taking a deep breath she quipped,

“Our spymaster has killed for less.” Mason’s face grew white with fear, there was an edge to Idril’s voice as she challenged him. It was very nearly a jest. Leliana was ruthless. She still remembered the minstrel whose singing days were cut remarkably short. Cullen was far less amused at the joke. She glanced apologetically at him and squeezed his hand beneath the table. “Haven’t you heard that not allowing the Herald of Andraste to eat dinner is almost a sin?” With her audience appeased, Idril picked up her fork and resumed eating. Cullen could only stare in admiration as Idril charmed his family. In his eyes, she was perfect.

Even though, Idril had charmed his family, she felt the need to be alone. For a few moments, she managed to hide herself outside, concealing herself with the cold evening air. The coming of winter was unmistakable now, Idril felt it in her bones. She stood near the fire and enjoyed the contrast between the warm fire and chilling air. Everything about this place felt real and grounded. The bricks of the home were a solid foundation, and the veil was still strong in the South Reach. Idril was relieved that she could barely feel the tingle of the fade. She watched as the flames licked the wood. She was startled as she heard the crack of a twig come from behind her. At first, she pinched herself, hoping this was not a dream. Still, she was too frightened to look back and simply shut her eyes. Idril sighed when she heard Cullen speak from behind her,

“Are you alright? It’s freezing out here.” His voice was gentle as he placed a warm blanket over her shoulders and wrapped his arms around her as she shivered. Admittedly, he was acting on more than just instinct. It was in his nature to comfort Idril, “You should not be out in the cold like this.” He spoke compassionately as he embraced her from behind. She smiled as he held her against his chest.

“I’m fine. I just like the cold. I know I’m awake,” she revealed, her expression vulnerable as she watched her breath make patterns the night air. He found her explanation confusing, but even Cullen knew she kept many secrets close to her heart.

“Are you sure you are alright?” He asked again, “I know I have no right to ask you about...him, but I hate to see you grieving.” Idril shook her head at his analysis. Cullen could not have been more wrong, she did not mourn Solas. It was far more complex than that.

“If only it were so simple,” she explained. She turned in his arms and rested her head against his chest. “I can’t even begin to describe what it’s like.” She was resigned to a life of lonely solitude. The same life her former lover claimed as well. “He watches me when I sleep, sometimes. I see him in the fade. He never speaks, he just stares sadly. I want to live again, but I can’t.” She confessed to Cullen. At first, his eyes flashed with anger as he watched the fire consume the logs. Then, he realized Idril did not need his anger. She required his compassion. He held her tighter, allowing her to take comfort in his embrace.

“If it helps,” he said cautiously, “I understand what you mean. Back in Klinoch and in Kirkwall, I--my mind was not my own. Clouded by fear and Lyrium.” Cullen lifted her chin delicately. His fingers caressed her jaw line unconsciously as he drew her attention to him. She needed to hear this tonight, now. “I wondered for years if I would ever be whole again.” Idril should have been panicking. The way his fingers cupped her cheek and held her gaze was remarkably intimate. His eyes were kind, but simmered with adoration. To distract herself she focused on the scar above his lip. For all the years they shared together, she had avoided intimacy with her commander. However, this felt right as he pled, “Let me help you. Allow me this.” Idril's stomach fluttered at his words, it all seemed too good to be true. Could he really help? She wanted to believe it, perhaps if anyone could it was Cullen. At this moment she realized, whatever they shared, what she intended to do next was long overdue. For so long, Idril’s life had been defined by her role as the Inquisitor and Cullen had been her commander, but being in his embrace was entirely different. She felt ideally ordinary.

Despite Cullen’s rigorous training, he was not prepared for the feeling of her lips against his scar. She kissed it first, Idril’s warm breath caressing his lips. He felt thirsty, as if his lips were dry and the only way to sate them was her. It had always been her, Cullen reflected. He wrapped his fingers around her slender forearms as every instinct told him to claim her, but he hesitated. She needed to know this was more than lust. Still, he did not want to reject her affections entirely, he would be no better than Fen’Harel. He simply wanted to wait until they were back in Skyhold. 

“Idril,” he whispered, resting his forehead against her own. “I’m still here, aren’t I?” Cullen reminded her. “I will always be here, as long as you’ll have me.” He implored her, making certain that Idril understood. However, she demanded more. Idril’s hand rested against the base of his neck as she opened her mouth, imploring him as if she herself was a sacred prayer. Cullen could not resist her parting lips, nor the sensation of her tongue against his teeth. He forced himself to breathe, letting Idril take what she wanted as he responded to her. He was helpless against the weight of her body and the scent of her skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm like 97% sure this is the end of the fic. I might add an epilogue or something, but I haven't decided yet. Any feedback is always appreciated.


End file.
